


on the illegality of manslaughter at christmastime

by DrabblingSparks (ingenious_spark)



Series: Saint Seiya prompts & short fic [167]
Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas Caroling, Drabble, Headaches & Migraines, Humor, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 16:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18480184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/pseuds/DrabblingSparks
Summary: Deathmask is afflicted with a migraine, and there are off-key carolers outside. Aphrodite has to remind him that yes, killing the carolers is both illegal and against the spirit of the holiday.





	on the illegality of manslaughter at christmastime

**Author's Note:**

> From a batch of prompts I did over on my tumblr, [@oopsbirdficced](http://oopsbirdficced.tumblr.com). This was previously posted in a drabble collection 'Saint Seiya: Snapshots’, that I have chosen to take down and post individually for ease of access. 
> 
> (Originally posted 12-11-2017)

“Are you sure it’s illegal to kill carolers?” Mephisto’s voice is muffled where he lies face down on Aphrodite’s lap, sprawled over the couch Aphrodite has tucked himself neatly onto the end of, with a book and a bottle of red wine. Aphrodite strokes his fingers through Mephisto’s fine white curls, massaging his scalp.

“Unfortunately manslaughter is still illegal, even if you have a migraine and they are off key.” Aphrodite replies, mouth twisted in sympathy. He eyes the door of the cabin, swearing silently to himself that he’s never booking a cabin at this resort ever again. A proper Swedish winter complete with skiing is not worth terrible carolers who might yet breach their sanctum. Mephisto groans pitifully.

“Want me to read to you? Or would that make it worse?” Aphrodite asks with a level of gentleness he only shows in private, with the people he cares for. Mephisto whines softly.

“No, just keep petting,” he mutters, nuzzling Aphrodite’s thigh. Aphrodite quietly acquiesces, and soon enough Mephisto’s short, lean body goes slack in sleep. Aphrodite reads a while longer, until the off-key sounds of the carolers have faded away, and the hearth burns deep red with coals. He sets his book aside and finishes off his bottle, enjoying the dry, spiced red.

Mephisto is small and vulnerable and pretty like this, and Aphrodite takes a certain selfish, capricious joy in being the only person to see him like this. He knows he’s not a good person by any stretch of the imagination, but here, like this, he can forget the desires of other people and just be.

Presently he gently shifts Mephisto’s head from his lap and takes the empty bottle to the garbage and his wine glass to the sink. He brushes his teeth, uses the toilet, and changes into one of his many soft, silky, skimpy nightgowns. He turns down the covers, and then returns to scoop Mephisto up into his arms, gently carrying him off to bed.

He wakes his lover enough to coax him out of his jeans and his sweater, tucking him in and curling around him under the covers.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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End file.
